


Teenage Kicks

by one_irradiated_muppet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, F/M, Punkrat, Slow Burn, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 01:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12694374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_irradiated_muppet/pseuds/one_irradiated_muppet
Summary: Angela finds friendship in the unlikeliest of places - amongst the punks of Camden Town.





	Teenage Kicks

The squeaking of gym shoes echoed about the hall, punctuated by the sharp swishing of badminton rackets as Angela gave the match her all. Her fine blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her tennis whites wouldn't have looked out of place on the centre court. Her friend Lena, playing at her side, took a more casual approach to sportswear in leggings and a loose tank. They played couples matches every Friday, duking it out with their long-time rivals; the women on the other side of the net mirrored them pleasingly, one willowy and elegant, the other quick and keen. They were all students of the Imperial College of London, where they studied fields that would hopefully change the world for the better. At least that was Angela's personal goal - she hoped their opponents' long-term motives didn't match their attitudes, which in her opinion, stank. 

  

The shuttlecock soared back and forth between them, both teams well paired and practiced enough to remain composed even as the match became heated. But Angela knew something was amiss with her partner, noting an unusual tension in her. When a sure point was sent winging back to them, Lena brought her racket down with a grunt of frustration, and the shuttlecock dove into their side of the net. 

  

"Lena, are you alright? You seem distracted today." 

  

The petite woman, usually the last to tire or admit defeat, was doubled over with her hands on her knees. She gave a groan before straightening up with a shake of her head. "I'm sorry Ange. It's just that gig tonight... The guy I got tickets with bailed, and it's not the same going alone." 

  

Lena had been looking forward to the show for weeks. Angela's brow furrowed as she bent to retrieve the shuttlecock, turning it thoughtfully in her slender fingers. Their opponents smirked from across the net, clearly keen to take advantage of Lena's distracted mood. She scowled at them, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to call it a day?" 

  

"Yeah…" Lena sighed, tossing her racket to the floor. Oh dear, this really was most unlike her. 

  

The game called, their opponents took their leave, arm in arm and still smirking to one another. Nevermind, Angela told herself; they'd make up for this defeat next time. For the moment she was more concerned with lifting her friend's usually effervescent spirits. 

  

"What if I came with you?" she asked, tucking her racket between her knees so that she could re-tie her blonde ponytail, which had started to come loose. Lena looked suitably taken aback for a moment, before flashing a teasing - but hopeful - grin. 

  

"You sure? Gonna join me in the mosh pit and all?" 

  

"Oh _yes_ , definitely. Just show me the way!" Angela joked. They shared a laugh, both knowing that a mosh pit was far from Angela’s usual scene. But if it'd help Lena enjoy her night out... She'd be there. 

  

"Alright. Okay. Yeah! I'd love for you to come!" Lena decided with mounting enthusiasm, planting her hands on her hips and looking much more her usual self. Even so, after a moment she raised an eyebrow dubiously and looked the doctor-in-training up and down. "So... What are you going to wear?" 

  

"Um. The usual?" Angela offered, lips pursing when she received a barked laugh in reply. "Lena! Surely it's not that big of a deal!" 

  

But apparently, it was. 

  

 ----------------------   

  

One shower, tube ride and brisk walk later, Angela found herself at Lena's apartment. The walls of her bedroom were plastered with posters, shelves jammed with CDs, magazines, the odd textbook, and seemingly anything else that would fit in between. Angela perched on the bed, surrounded by makeup palettes and a good half of Lena's wardrobe. Her eyes stung a little; she wasn't used to so much eyeliner, and Lena had really piled on her mascara. 

  

"Ooo! How about this?" Lena held up a black fishnet top for her consideration, and laughed when Angela wrinkled her nose in a silent but clear response. "Alright alright, not your style. Hmmm." She pinched her chin and looked over the small mountain of clothes Angela had already rejected. Throwing the top down in defeat, she grabbed a small box from all her makeup and tossed herself onto the bed. "Here, let's try this. Look!" 

  

She tugged the box open to reveal a palette of brightly coloured disks. "Hair chalks," she explained, settling cross-legged opposite Angela and taking one out to show her. "Got them a while back but my hair's too dark. Bet they'll look great on you though!" 

  

Angela examined them with sceptically. Lena knew she'd never dyed her hair before. "Are they permanent?" 

  

"Nope! They'll wash right out. Ooooo c'mon Angie, they'll look so cool," she pleaded, already setting out a few colours. Angela rolled her eyes but was defeated. Tucking her knees beneath her, she pulled her hair free of its pony-tail and leaned forward compliantly. "Do your worst, Miss Oxton." 

  

Three-quarters of an hour later, Lena was giving her an excited thumbs up from the bed as Angela examined herself in the mirror. Lena had chosen a mix of yellows, oranges, and just a hint of red for her hair, feathering them through her fringe and down to frame her face. Though she'd been initially dubious, she had to admit they looked wonderful, unlike anything she'd seen on herself before. The rest of her ensemble had fallen into place after that: a little black skirt - shorter and tighter than she was strictly comfortable with, but all of Lena's clothes ran small - and a white tank top with a peeling metallic logo. Not content with her conservative choices, Lena had thrown what felt like half her jewellery at her, and fine chains lay in layers around her neck and on her wrists. Her favourite part of the outfit was the jacket, which was made of soft white leather and cropped to her waist. 

  

"Blimey, we'll be late!" Realising they'd gotten carried away Lena hurried her out the door, only just remembering to grab the tickets before they were on their way. 

 

 ---------------------- 

  

The gig was already well underway by the time Jamie arrived, just as he'd intended. He let Roadie hand in their tickets, standing to the side with his hands shoved into his pockets. There would be more than a few familiar faces about tonight, and for the time being he wanted to keep to himself; he knew he'd receive a warm welcome, but he wasn't in the mood for the pity that would accompany it. An escape was what he needed, not a reminder. 

  

A wall of hot air struck them as they headed down and into the venue, pulsing around them. The band was killing it, the crowd in front of the stage jumping and surging with the beat, and he felt a pang of jealousy. Not long ago, he'd have been in the heart of the pit himself. But now... He made a beeline for the bar, Roadie following like a shadow. 

  

A plastic cup was shoved into his hand, sticky with spilled beer, and he reclined against the bar. The small hall was packed, but he a good view of the stage and the crowd; he was interested in both. Jamie picked out a good half a dozen people he knew before his gaze settled on a girl stood against one of the back pillars, far from the thrashing mob. Even at a distance, it was clear she wasn't into the band, the faint light of her phone screen glowing up from her hand. That would usually be enough reason to pass someone over, but in her case, Jamie felt differently. Her long blonde hair hung down one bare shoulder, streaked with licks of orange and red like flames. She held a jacket in one arm, tight against her, and below that her legs just went on and on. He watched her heave a sigh and look up at the crowd before her head turned, and she met his gaze. 

  

Uh-oh, he'd been caught staring. And here he was used to being the one attracting attention. He raised his cup casually in greeting, and though her discomfort was visible across the room, the girl twitched one hand in a reluctant wave. Well wasn't she polite? Maybe a little chat with a stranger was what Jamie needed; in the dark, she might not even notice his prosthetics. Patting Roadie's arm to get his attention, he shouted into his ear that he was going for a wander and downed the rest of his beer. 

 

\---------------------- 

  

Angela had been surprised to find the tiny basement venue so packed, and was relieved when Lena showed her to the back; even before the band came on, it was clear that crowd wasn't for her. Lena might even have stayed with her, but Angela assured her she'd be alright alone, pushing her toward the stage. "I came so you'd have fun. So go enjoy yourself already!" 

  

Lena bounced away with a wave, worming her way into the throng until she was out of sight. It wasn't until the band and crowd alike threw themselves into the first song that Angela wondered if she'd done the right thing. She didn't see how anyone could survive that without a black eye or broken rib! But Lena must have known what she was getting into, and Angela was grateful she hadn’t been dragged into the mosh pit herself. 

  

She settled back against a broad pillar, its surface pasted with years' worth of worn posters. The venue was stifling, the air only growing thicker as the first song plunged into the second, bodies crashing together with it. She honestly could not see the appeal of the music or the moshing. But that was hardly unexpected, nor the point of her being there. Taking her jacket off, she pulled out her phone and was unsurprised to find there was no wifi or 4G. Good thing she had a lot of textbooks saved to pdf. 

  

Despite the deafening thrash of noise that continued on from the stage, Angela managed to read a good amount before her eyes began to ache. Too much eyeliner and a tiny, bright screen. She resisted rubbing them, already panda-eyed enough for her taste, and looked up to search Lena out. 

  

Nope. It was no good. She was tiny and in the thick of it, and Angela would just have to wait for the band to finish. She heaved a sigh and glanced around, noting that more people were stood closer to her before, members of the mob who'd broken off to take a breather. Many were holding plastic cups, and she became aware of how thirsty she was - it was hot in there, after all. But when she sought out the bar, she was startled to realise she was being watched. Though at first difficult to see, a man there was flat-out staring, and she pulled her jacket against her, unsure of how to react. He raised the cup in his hand, and she gave a little wave back grudgingly, hoping that would placate him. 

  

Oh for Heaven's sake, now he was coming _over_. She should have just ignored him after all. 

  

Angela eyed the man as he approached. He was lean and must have been tall, but walked with an unbalanced sort of hunch, casting odd silhouettes in the flashing lights. He wore ripped jeans and a huge black bomber jacket covered in patches, and his head was shaved at the sides, the remaining blonde hair set into thick, messy spikes. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met or cared to meet, but now that looked set to change whether she liked it or not. 

  

He came to rest against the pillar, uncomfortably close to her, and grabbed her phone. 

  

"Hey!" Angela shouted, just as the band smashed to a finish on stage. He held the phone just out of her reach, shaking his head and tutting loudly. 

  

"Don't you know it's rude to ignore the band?" he crooned, before finally letting her snatch the phone back. "Wasted your money on a ticket, too." 

  

Angela tugged her jacket on, and slipped her phone safely away, fixing him with a glare. "Are you done?" 

  

"Well now, that depends..." The man leaned close, one arm resting on the pillar behind her, and reached to twirl a lock of her hair between his fingers. "Still got an encore, haven't we?" 

  

Angela recoiled, but when she reached to smack his hand away she was startled to hit something hard in place of flesh. Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and drew it better into view, long fingers brushing over and taking measure of it. It was made of lightweight material and covered in tattoo-like designs as far up into his sleeve as she could see, with strange cosmetic augmentations on the knuckles. 

  

But underneath all that was a design she not only recognized but was in awe of. "This is a bebionic!" She gasped, turning it over so that she could trace the palm with her finger. "Amazing! How on earth did you get one of these?" 

  

Its owner had frozen up, his expression a mixture of annoyance and surprise, and he pulled his hand back, rubbing it in his real one in a gesture of habit. Angela scolded herself for getting carried away and overstepping his boundaries; it didn't matter that he had the first high-tech, working prosthetic she'd ever seen - she was a doctor in training, and would do well to remember that. For all this, she had, in her excitement, completely forgotten his rude behaviour up until then. So when he raised an eyebrow at her inquisitively, she was driven to answer, even if she didn't exactly know the question. 

  

"I'm Angela, and I--," she began, but her voice faltered as the band, having returned for their encore, lit up the stage. She glanced out across the crowd but Lena was still lost to the sea of churning bodies. A touch on her arm startled Angela, and she turned back to the man as he jabbed his thumb toward the door. Strobing lights gave her a better look at him than before. His eyes were intense and bright, like liquid gold. 

  

  

  

The venue's smoking area was little more than a chain link fence set up in the alley to the side of the building, with little in the way of amenities. It was deserted except for a girl on her phone and one of the bar staff on break, but stank of cigarettes nonetheless, at least to Angela's sensitive nose. The door clicked shut behind them, reducing the band's cacophony to a dull, thudding bass. There were arched alcoves set into the black stonework of the building, and the punk drew himself into one, leaning back against one side and hooking his thumbs in his pockets. 

  

"Didn't have a chance in hell over all that,” he said. “Sorry, didn't quite catch ya name.” 

  

Angela crossed her arms and shivered, cold night air finding its way to her damp skin even under her leather jacket. She was well and truly out of her comfort zone, dressed strangely in a strange place with an even stranger man. But being out here was preferable to being in there with all the noise and bodies, and the man, despite or as a result of him being so unusual, was had peaked her interest. Even discounting his prosthetic. 

  

In the orange glow of the streetlights, she could count the piercings in his ears and angular features, and his amber eyes were brighter than ever. Beneath his oversized bomber, his tank top hugged his skinny torso, leaving a gap of skin where it just failed to meet his belt. His jeans were ripped at the knees, and Angela noticed for the first time that his leg was _also_ prosthetic. Christ, was a full half of him made by design? He was unreal! 

  

And now she was the one staring. 

  

"Angela," she finally repeated, sidling into the alcove but keeping to her own side. "And you are…?" 

  

"Junkrat," the punk responded with a grin that had developed while she'd been staring, though it wavered when Angela snorted a laugh into the back of her hand. She stopped abruptly, hand hovering awkwardly for a moment before dropping to rub her arm. It was Junkrat's turn to laugh, but with less disdain than Angela would have expected. "You don't come here often, do you? Fine, call me Jamie, if that suits you any better." He shook his head, still grinning, and kicked his pegleg to rest over the other. 

  

"I'm sorry. You're right," Angela admitted, lifting one hand to play with her hair sheepishly. "I tagged along with a friend to keep them company. Am I that obvious?" 

  

"Oh yeah. A real different breed," he agreed slyly, and she couldn't tell if he was teasing her or trying to chat her up. She squinted her eyes and gave him a suspicious half smile. 

  

"I'm the different one? Do you not own a mirror, Jamie?" 

  

Jamie's laugh of response came out long and loud, shaking his shoulders as he doubled over. Angela relaxed a little; finally, she'd said something agreeable. Jamie poked his tongue out - she added another piercing to the count - before gesturing to himself with both arms. "What, you think I'd look this good without a mirror? It's not all natural you know!" He wiggled the fingers of his prosthetic to further his point. Angela giggled, trying not to focus on them too much after her earlier faux-pas. Ah yes, about that. 

  

"Look, I'm sorry abo-" she began, but was cut off abruptly. 

  

"So, if this isn't your usual style, what is?" 

  

A pang of annoyance was quickly replaced by amusement as Angela recognized Jamie's intent. Okay, they'd forget about all that. But the question was a tough one; she got the feeling 'normal' wouldn't be an acceptable answer. 

  

"Well. I don’t wear so many accessories…" She fiddled with the jewellery which hung around her neck and wrists and smiled shyly. "I guess you could say 'neat'? Except for when I'm studying, which is all the time at the moment. Then I just wear whatever." 

  

"What are you studying?" Jamie's gaze was still bright but less intense than before, and in the dim light, the angles of his face looked softer. 

  

"Medicine. I hope to be a doctor." There was a measure of pride in the way Angela said it. She never could quite hide it, even when she felt as shy as she did now. 

  

Jamie's brow furrowed, and he snorted, gaze shifting to the ground. 

  

" _What_?" Angela felt equal parts betrayed by and defensive toward his response. 

  

Jamie made another quiet sound, but this time seemingly in annoyance at himself, wringing his shoulders as if trying to shake off the sudden change in mood. "Ah, no. I didn't mean that at you. I just had to... spend a lot of time with doctors, recently. Thought I was done with 'em, so it's funny, right?" 

  

Was this ever a rollercoaster ride of a meeting. Angela took a deep breath, leaning back against the cold stone of the alcove and shaking her head. "It's okay. That makes perfect sense." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, forgetting the lipstick she was wearing. She expected he wouldn't appreciate any further questions in that line, but she couldn't help expressing a little sympathy. "It must have been hard. I hear post-traumatic stress disorder is a common problem with..." Damnit! Now she really sounded like a bloody doctor! 

  

Jamie was staring at her across the alcove, but once again he was temperate where she would have expected anger, which she felt she more than deserved. She just kept putting her foot in it over and over again, which in itself was a bizarre experience for the usually capable and charismatic young woman. Angela really was well and truly out of her depth. 

  

Jamie's expression didn't change, and he opened his mouth to - scold her? Tease her? She never found out, because just then a familiar voice piped up from nearby. 

  

"Ange?" 

  

Lena stood on the other side of the fence, her hair damp with sweat, jacket drawn around her against the chill night air. Then her gaze flicked to Jamie, and she leapt forward, grabbing the chain link like she was going to clamber right over it. "YOU!!" 

  

Beside her, Jamie screamed. 

 

\---------------------- 

  

Lena's tiny frame hit Jamie with the force of a double-decker, and he stumbled back under the impact, wrapping his arms around her and cackling into her hair. "Tracer! Shoulda known you'd turn out tonight!" She had him in a vice-like grip, enough to make his ribs ache. Heaven help anyone who underestimated her; she was as tough as they came. And he knew he could rely on her to treat him the same as ever. He ruffled her hair with his good hand and she finally released him, but still held onto his jacket as she bounced on the pavement. 

  

"Jamie, why didn't you tell me you'd be out tonight? I almost didn't come!" Lena huffed dramatically and told him off with a sharp kick to his boot. 

  

Or where he'd worn a boot, once. 

  

Jamie's prosthetic leg jerked out from under him, and he toppled into her, almost taking her down with him - had it not been for a huge, steadying hand on his shoulder, which righted him in an instant. He breathed a sigh of relief, tugging his jacket straight and flashing the man beside him a grin of thanks. "Ta Roadie. Can you believe this chick?" 

  

"I'm sorry!" Lena piped, hands darting about in front of Jamie as if she was suddenly scared to touch him; just what he'd wanted to avoid. 

  

But he knew how to deal with her. Bearing his weight on his good leg, he yanked her into a headlock and noogied the hell out of her (with his good hand - he wasn't a total monster). "You'd better be! Put me back in the hospital, you will!" 

  

A small cough sounded behind them, and he swung around, dragging the writhing girl around with him. Oh. Shit. How had he forgotten about _her_? 

  

"You two are... acquainted?" Angela twisted the strap of one jacket sleeve in her hand, and her smile made his chest do something concerning. 

  

He released Lena quickly, and she sprang forward, turning to slide her arm through Angela's and press into her side. "Ange! You know Jamie!?" 

  

"We just met. How do you know one another?" 

  

"He did one of my tats," Lena explained with a hint of pride, jabbing her free hand over her shoulder to demonstrate where the tattoo in question lived. "But I didn't know he'd be here tonight! Haven't seen him at all really, not since…" 

  

Lena had caught the look in Jamie's eye and clammed right up, immediately changing the subject. "Well, ain't London a small town after all? Who'da thunk you two would get on!" 

  

"I don't know about that," Angela murmured, playing with her flame-coloured hair and looking down. Then her eyes darted up to meet Jamie's, and she gave a small smirk. Jamie felt his throat grow tight, but he didn't have to play it cool for long, as Lena interjected again, thank Hell. 

  

"And have you met Roadhog yet? He runs the tattoo place Jamie works at!" Lena patted the silent giant on the arm affectionately, and Jamie watched Angela's expression with amusement. People tended to be intimidated by him - not that he could blame them. Roadhog stood a good few inches taller than Jamie and was built, to put it bluntly, like a brick shit house. He was several years their senior too, though not by enough to have earned his silver hair naturally; it was pulled back into a ponytail, thick sideburns running down the strong lines of his jaw and only serving to make it look broader. His heavy leather jacket left his arms bare, but hardly an inch of them was uncovered by the art of his trade. 

  

He was a monster. And the greatest man Jamie knew. 

  

Angela smiled radiantly and offered her hand in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, Mister Roadhog." 

  

Lena and Jamie fell about themselves, and Angela's hand was engulfed in a massive paw as Roadhog gently shook it. 

 

\----------------------  

 

"This calls for a celebration! Let's get some drinks in!" Lena called ahead energetically, to where Roadhog was lumbering up the road at a steady pace. 

  

"Bar?" he answered. Angela hadn't heard him string more than two words together since they'd met, but with companions like Lena and Jamie around, he didn't need to. Thinking of her new friend, she turned to look back at Jamie over her shoulder, noting that he not only kept up with them, but that his strange gait had acquired a bit of a spring. And that smile on his face… one could almost call it goofy. It made her giggle, and she buried her face in Lena's hair, who looked up at her curiously from where they walked together. 

  

"Oh, it's nothing," Angela passed it off, giving her arm a quick squeeze. Whether Jamie's apparent delirium was a result of seeing his good friend after so long, or for another reason, she didn't mind. She was learning more about Lena and meeting someone new all at once. What a surprising evening this was shaping up to be! 

  

"No, bars're too loud and we have catching up to do!" Lena picked the thread of conversation back up, and Roadhog slowed to a halt. 

  

"Sainsbury's shut," he grunted. "Might have something above the shop though." He let the statement hung in the air, waiting for someone else to decide. 

  

"Woo! Let's get pissed on the looooock!" Lena flung her arms up and crowed the last word, and if she hadn't been with her most of the night, Angela would have thought she was halfway drunk already. 

  

Roadhog nodded and picked Lena up without hesitation, tossing her over his shoulder. She screamed with laughter, pounding his back with her small fists, and he turned to throw Jamie and Angela a loose two-finger salute. "See you there." 

  

Lena's shouts and squeals faded into the distance as he carted her off, replaced by cackling at Angela's side. She realized her mouth had been hanging open, and quickly shut it, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She hoped her makeup would cover it. 

  

"Don't worry, he does that 'cause she likes it," Jamie assured her, gesturing for her to follow him in the same direction, but at a lighter pace. They were heading uphill, to what she recognized as the main section of Camden high street. It was busier here, plenty of people still milling around even this late into the night. The establishments that remained open spilled a mixture of coloured lights, colourful conversation, and thumping music out onto the pavement. Here, Jamie's earlier comments about being 'out of place' came into new light. The only 'normal' folks were clearly tourists taking in the spectacle of drunk punks on a Friday night. Everyone else had something to say and did so loudly with no words at all, opinions laid bare in their outlandish clothes, hair, piercings, tattoos. Though they were hardly what she'd call scary, Angela hugged herself to Jamie's side a little as they walked the crowded pavement. He was warm, even without a jacket. 

  

Once they were near the bridge Jamie hung left to lead her down a dark, narrow pathway, and they came out by the canalside. Behind them, the stalls of the Camden Lock Market had shuttered up for the night, but music still blared from some of the buildings that were housed under the train tracks beyond. A rave maybe? The pulsing lights which illuminated the massive stone archways would suggest so. Angela liked the architecture here. It was industrial but elegant in its own way - the framework to a sprawling modern day shanty town of misfits and the misunderstood. She sighed, amazed at how easily she could have missed out on this. 

  

"You alright?" Jamie asked, and she flashed him a quick smile, noting his concern. 

  

"Yes. You?" 

  

"Oh," he laughed, looking back out over the lock and giving a little jerk of his head. "Absolutely. Never thought my first night back out would go this well." 

  

"First...?" Angela's lips bunched in one corner curiously, and realization dawned on her. "Ah, no wonder Lena's going crazy. You've been in hiding." 

  

Earlier, that comment might have led to an awkward silence, but now Jamie merely chuckled at it, nodding and resting his arms on the railing that separated them from the canalside. "Yep, haven't really gone out in months. Didn't have high hopes for tonight either; can't get in the pit like this. Not used to being on the sidelines." 

  

Angela recalled first laying eyes on him at the venue, stood at the bar near the back while he stared her down. Now she thought about it, Roadhog had been there too, a looming shadow beside him. Moral and physical support in heaped servings. She joined him at the railing, a little close perhaps, the fabric of their jackets rasping together. 

  

"Well I'm grateful," she confessed, chewing her bottom lip gently before meeting his gaze and cracking a grin. "Otherwise I doubt you'd have seen me from within the crowd." 

  

Jamie let out a small, surprised laugh, and leaned back to regard her with amusement. She'd meant what she said, but Angela felt a blush creeping up her cheeks anyway; perhaps it had been a little bold. 

  

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. Think I’d have spotted you from a mile off," Jamie replied coyly, and Angela's breath caught in her throat - but before she could respond, the sound of Roadhog and Lena's approach came down the narrow path. 

  

They'd both demonstrated impeccable timing more than once tonight. And the sight of them was enough to shock Angela to laughing, instinctively stifling it behind her hand before giving up and letting it out. Lena sat atop Roadhog's vast shoulders, wobbling happily as he stomped along like a sultan on a camel; Angela bet Roadhog could spit and kick just like one if it came to it. But for now, the beast of a man was actually... sweet. She certainly found his gentleness with her good friend endearing. His arms pinned Lena's legs securely against his chest, and two carrier-bags full of bottles clinked against his belly as he came to meet them. 

  

"Aaaanggiiiee!" Lena waved excitably, sloshing half the contents of the cider she'd already started across the ground. Angela sighed, resting her hands on her hips and glowering up at her. 

  

"Lena, if you get blind drunk, who's going to carry you all the way home? Hm? Me?" she chastised, ignoring the mountain of a man who stood between them. 

  

"Ah come off it Ange, I've only had a sip!" Lena snickered and used her free hand to pat Roadhog on the cheek. "Anyway, I'd crash at yours, wouldn't I Roadie?" 

  

Before Angela could protest _that_ idea, Jamie had stepped forward to take the heavy carrier bags from Roadhog, and made space for him to squeeze past. Lena still atop his shoulders, he jogged along the canal, a long "Wheeeee!" of delight trailing behind as she held her arms out to the wind. Angela found herself laughing again, sharing it with Jamie as they followed them down. 

  

Camden Lock Market was named for the two canal locks which had existed there for almost 200 years. Angela knew they had something to do with the level of the water, but not much more; she'd only found out they were so old on the way past earlier. Tonight all that mattered was that they spanned the breadth of the canal, a small concrete island located between them. A few teenagers had congregated there to blare tinny music from their phones and do a variety of things they definitely weren't old enough to. But all it took was Roadhog stomping one foot on the first of the locks to grab their attention, and they caught on quick; no one was going to put up a fight with him. Grumbling in hushed voices, they grabbed their booze and cigarettes and slunk away. 

  

"Hey!" Roadhog's voice boomed through the dark, and the last of the teens froze, turning to gape at him. 

  

"Pick. That. Up." He jabbed a huge finger in the direction of the rubbish they'd left behind. Even with Lena sat across his shoulders he didn't look like someone to cross. The kid scrambled to collect the crisp packets and empty bottles, before bolting across the canal so fast he almost fell in. 

  

"Oh ho ho, you big softie you," Lena was cooing when they made it across to the island, and Roadhog set her down, receiving another pat on his cheek for his troubles. 

  

Despite the height of her heels and the unexpected challenge, Angela stepped up and was halfway across the beam before a clacking sound made her pause and turn; Jamie was tapping the iron end of the lock with his prosthetic leg, lips twisting in consideration. 

  

"Here." She leaned down and held out her hand with a smile. "Let's go together." 

**Author's Note:**

> Bebionic - a range of cutting-edge prosthetic arms designed in the UK.


End file.
